Sunshine
by em-ily8458
Summary: Laura's parents always called her Sunshine, but her life wasn't always sunny. Her Hogwarts years were hard, the Wizarding War robbed her of her family and most of her happiness, and her rock star lifestyle isn't all it's cracked up to be. Three years later, Laura becomes the target of a new evil plot in the wizarding world, but maybe she can find some happiness in it all. PostWarAU
1. One - Hippogriffs & Hell

**Hello again! I know it's been an extremely long time since I've posted anything on here, and I know I'm an awful person for starting so many projects and not finishing them. But I'm here with a new fic, one that I feel is TRULY different than all of the other fanfics I've posted on here. Yes, it involves OCs and the twins, but the plot is so different and the characters are so different and I think that you'll honestly see how different this fic is from my others if you read them.**

 **That said, I will give fair trigger warnings here. There is swearing, alcohol use, violence, sex, etc. So if you don't like any of those things, don't read this fanfiction. If you're a-okay with those things, then good luck, my friend, and read on. I hope you enjoy. And I would be honored if you felt so inclined to leave a fave, a follow, or a review, because Merlin, I do love hearing from y'all.**

 **I'm shutting up now. Enjoy.**

* * *

June 20, 2001.

The Dancing Hippogriff Nightclub and Concert Venue, Diagon Alley, London.

It was a warm night for early summer in London, and all of Diagon Alley was crammed full of people waiting for the doors of the Dancing Hippogriff (which was arguably the hippest place for young witches and wizards in the UK nowadays) to open. The line of people waiting to get in went all the way down the long alley, and the excitement in the air was infectious. Everyone was waiting to see their favorite band, a band called Wormwood, who, since all of the members graduated from Hogwarts in 1996, had become the most popular musical group in the wizarding world. Tickets to this show were particularly sacred to fans, as it was rumored to be their last show.

While the large hoard of fans all seemed overjoyed and full of excitement, the four members couldn't seem less excited to go onstage. In fact, all of them seemed quite bored and quite apathetic, not at all giving off the impression that they gave the slightest of a damn about the show they were about to put on or the people that were waiting for them outside. All four of them were in the green room backstage, clad in leather, denim, combat boots and heavy jewelry, passing around bottles of firewhiskey and vodka and smoking cigarettes.

The lead singer of the group, the dashing, mysterious, and sexy Andrew Fawley stood before a floor length mirror attached to the wall, styling his long, dark hair to messy perfection. His lifelong best friend, who he considered his sister, and bassist of the group, Laura Marlow-O'Malley noticed his moment of vanity (something she had always teased him about) and decided to comment.

"Whatever you do to your hair, you're still going to be a sex god to all the girls out there," she commented with a smirk, draping a playful arm over his leather jacket clad shoulders.

"Oh, sod off," he grumbled, swatting her away.

" _You're so vain_ ," she sang, singing the old Carly Simon tune as she twirled around in a bit of a drunken stupor. " _You probably think this song is about you, don't you? Don't you…."_

Truth be told, even though her brain was soaked in alcohol, Laura had a beautiful singing voice. She could've been her own solo act without Andy or the rest of the band, but oddly enough, she was far too shy for that.

"Merlin, shut up, will you?" grumbled the drummer, Carter Morris, as he chucked an empty firewhiskey bottle at Laura.

With a quick flick of the wand, Laura deflected the bottle away from her, making it land safely on the nearest table. At that moment, one of the band's many assistants, a young man whose name they all had neglected to learn, came in with a nervous expression, clutching his wand and a clipboard.

"Er, excuse me, Mr. Fawley….," the young man interrupted hesitantly and awkwardly.

"Yes, what is it, Jerry?" Andy retorted curtly. Jerry wasn't the assistant's actual name, it was just Andy's best guess at what it could be.

"Er, sir….your….er, your hippogriff, sir, he's gotten a bit wild….," stuttered 'Jerry.' "He's torn up an entire sofa, and…."

"Well, give him a bit of firewhiskey, and calm him down, then," Andy demanded dismissively.

It was a well known fact that he had to bring his pet hippogriff, Moonbeam, with him everywhere. And hippogriffs weren't exactly easy pets to travel with.

"Yes, sir," the assistant nodded, still red in the face.

"Oh, and when you're out there, send Xavier back here, will you?" Andy said, referring to their guitarist, Xavier Crowley. "He can finish fucking his women of the night later."

The assistant dashed out of the room in a nervous hurry. In the opposite corner of the room, Laura collapsed against the place where the two walls met. Her drinking made her more "depressed" than usual (she used that term lightly, as that's what the Muggle doctors told her she had, while the Healers at St. Mungo's diagnosed her with some kind of wizarding syndrome) and currently the depression or whatever was crashing down around her. She felt awful. She felt that they were all awful - Andy, and his vanity and bit of narcissism, Carter, and his drinking that was worse than her own, and Xavier, who had reduced himself to a sex fiend who wanted to fuck anything with two legs, two breasts and a head of long hair.

They'd all turned into awful people, and Laura was feeling the sting of that revelation. There was something in her gut telling her that something was going to happen tonight; something awful was coming at them in return for all the awful things they did and the awful people they'd become.

"Alright, you lot, get out there," grumbled their manager, a very thick man called Ed Mudgett. He glanced around the room, as Andy lifted Laura off of the ground, and angrily yelped, "Where the bloody hell is Xavier?!"

"I'm here, you git," Xavier shot back, stumbling through the doorway.

Xavier was shirtless, only clad in a pair of (extremely) tight leather pants, leather boots, and a collection of leather studded belts and his impressive collection of necklaces. There seemed to be a few new hickies developing on his neck, and his hair was an absolute mess.

Ed used his wand to summon the instruments up for everyone, sending Xavier's guitar at him with a particular force. Laura caught her bass, Carter caught his drumsticks and Andy caught the microphone. Xavier and Carter started to the stage, while Andy stayed behind, hands on Laura's shoulders as he looked her deep in the eye. He'd known her since they were born - he knew better than anyone when something was wrong with her.

"What's on your mind, Sunshine?" Andy inquired lowly.

He used Sunshine because that's what her parents used to call her.

"I don't have a good feeling about this show," Laura admitted, nervously chewing on her black-painted nails. "Something's not right. Something's not good. I don't feel good about this; I want to go home."

"You're gonna be just fine, Laur," Andy assured her. "We're all going to be just fine. We're gonna go out there and play a show like we've done ten million times already, and we're going to kick arse and be just dandy afterwards. Alright?"

Laura looked up at him; she was tall herself but he had a good six or so inches on her. Her hazel eyes met his clear blue ones. She trusted him. She always had. And she wanted to trust him on this, but she couldn't, not fully, at least.

"Sure," she mumbled, her eyes falling to his old black tee shirt. "Sure, okay."

"Okay," Andy said, brightening up as he slapped Laura on the shoulder encouragingly.

He was off, practically sprinting in the same direction that Carter and Xavier had gone. Laura took a deep, deep breath. And she went too.

* * *

There was a strong, vibrant, and completely palpable energy running through the Dancing Hippogriff as the crowd roared upon seeing the four members of Wormwood appear on stage. First came the notoriously raunchy drummer Carter Morris. Second was the ladies' man and guitarist Xavier Crowley. Third was the dark and sexy vocalist Andrew Fawley. And last, but not least, the fashionable, slightly tortured seeming and snarky Laura Marlow-O'Malley.

The crowd really went wild as Andy started to scream his usual crowd warm-up speech thing, while Carter downed another bottle of firewhiskey and Xavier magically adjusted his guitar tone. Laura was in the back corner of the stage, looking strangely nervous to all of the fans, who knew her as someone who was more than comfortable on the stage. She looked sick. She certainly did not look as though she wanted to be there.

"Alright, are you motherfuckers ready for us?!" yelled Andy, as the crowd reacted with even more energy than he had expected. "Okay then! This first one's called 'Cedar and Pine!'"

The four band members thought the crowd had been going hard earlier, but now the party had really began. The crowd was screaming, roaring, thrashing, chanting and dancing, even thought it was only Carter playing up the drum intro. There was a fun, yet feral, and slightly dangerous feel that the band evoked from the fans at their shows, and it was infectious - it was dirty, raucous rock'n'roll.

Xavier played the opening chord, and at that moment, it seemed that all hell broke loose.

The screaming now was not that of fun and rock'n'roll, it was now screaming of panicked, frightened people. People were Disapparting by the dozen, sparks flew from the tips of wands, people began to sprint like chickens with their heads chopped off.

Seemingly without thought, Laura chucked her bass aside, pulling her wand from where it was stashed in the side of her boot. Xavier and Andy had already leapt into the crowd, wands out, dueling people in blood-red robes wearing masks….Death Eater masks?!

 _No_ , thought Laura. _No, no, NO. It can't be….all the Death Eaters are dead, or in Azkaban….Voldemort's dead, you watched him die….they can't be, it can't be, how could it?!_

Before Laura had much more time to contemplate the complete and utter chaos around her, she heard Carter shouting, "LAURA! WATCH OUT!"

Her eyes flew up, seeing a curse coming straight at her from the tip of one of the masked foe's wand, a fearsome jet of ink green light. Thoughtlessly, she jabbed her wand, and at the very last second, deflected the curse away from her, as she felt the familiar feeling of adrenaline flooding her veins. She'd fought plenty of bad guys in her life, plenty of Death Eaters - this feeling of adrenaline and fear and acting on pure instinct was something she learned to be used to from all of those experiences.

"Drop the wand, you mudblood bitch!" commanded the foe, amidst the duel that had ensued between the masked man and Laura.

 _Mudblood_?!

Swiftly, Laura dodged another curse, chucking one back his way. Hers made contact with his shoulder, causing him to fall paralyzed on the ground. She stepped forward, thinking to go stomp on the man's wand so that it snapped in half and became useless, but she was stopped.

She was stopped dead in her tracks, feeling a thick set of arms seize her from behind, holding her against a man, who held something cold to her throat - a knife.

"Drop. The. Wand," the man demanded coldly, digging the knife into her throat so that it just started to break the first layer of skin.

"Fuck you," she spat, elbowing him hard in the gut so that he released her.

She had just gotten out of the man's grip when he kicked her to the ground, hard. She landed with extreme force, causing her wand to go flying away, far out of her reach. The man leapt over her, causing her to roll on her back to face him. In the brief moment she had here, she got a look at his blood-red robe, which bore a crest on his chest, a crest with a red-eyed snake and the letters C.O.V. in ink-green lettering. She saw the man's eyes through the holes in the mask - eyes with no soul to be seen through them.

Instead of going for his wand, the man swung his silver knife up over his head, preparing to stab her. Instinctively, Laura threw her hands up in defense, as she readied herself for probable death.

"LAURA!" someone shouted, this time, it was Andy.

She heard his voice, and she felt incredible pain in her gut. And she knew pain.

The man over her chuckled maniacally, pulling the knife out only to stab it back in again. Laura choked, she was in pain, she couldn't breath, she felt blood leaking out of her mouth now as she inhaled and exhaled rapidly. Everything hurt, and then nothing hurt anymore. Everything was fine. Warm. Light.

 _I'm fucking dying_ , Laura thought. _Mum….dad….I'm coming….I'm coming…._

Everything was warm and everything was light, and then everything suddenly vanished right before Laura Marlow-O'Malley's eyes.


	2. Two - There Again

**Hey! So I'm back with chapter two of this fic...nothing much new to say, I gave you guys the run down and warnings in the previous chapter. I guess I'll just shout out another thanks to y'all for stopping by to give this a read, and a reminder that faves, follows, and especially reviews are always welcome here.**

 **Thanks again guys!**

* * *

"She looks bloody awful."

"She's lucky she's alive."

"Laura's a fighter. No motherfucker can kill Laura Marlow-O'Malley."

"They almost did, mate."

"But they didn't."

"Still did quite a number on her, though."

"I've never seen her look so weak like this."

The conversation amongst the three young men stopped. Andy swallowed hard, before saying, "I have. Not for three years, though."

Andy, Carter and Xavier looked down at their wounded friend and bandmate, who lay on a St. Mungo's hospital cot, stiff and pale as a corpse. There were dark circles around her eyes, and her skin seemed paper thin. She'd been unconscious since the attack the previous night, and countless healers had worked on her. The knife she'd been attacked with had been cursed, and caused her to bleed from her stomach uncontrollably for a while. After a few hours, the healers got her to stop bleeding, but not after she'd lost considerable amounts of blood. Once they got her to stop bleeding out, they pumped her full of blood-restoring potions and gave her a sleeping potion as well.

The whole time, Andy, Carter and Xavier hadn't left her side. They hadn't slept, they hadn't eaten, they'd refused to leave her, even though the healers insisted they did. They didn't. They stayed with her. They stayed with her, sitting by her side, watching her, wondering if she'd really be able to pull through. Her blood was still on Andy's hands, as he was the one to grab her away from her attacker initially, as well as on his leather jacket, and on Xavier's hands, and staining Carter's ash gray tee shirt.

Andy reached out a bloodied hand to squeeze Laura's limp one. She was warm, just barely so. She was still alive, but just barely so.

"She'll be alright, mate," Xavier assured him, laying a hand on his shoulder as he said so. He knew as well as anyone that Andy and Laura were closer than most siblings.

"Yeah, you said it yourself," Carter chimed in. Clearing his throat, he quoted what Andy had said earlier, " _No motherfucker can kill Laura Marlow-O'Malley_."

With a single tear rolling down his cheek, the usually cocky Andy spoke in a crackling voice, saying, "I hope not."

* * *

Outside Laura Marlow-O'Malley's private hospital room, were two of the Ministry of Magic's greatest Aurors, Harry Potter (yes, the Boy Who Lived) and his best friend, Ron Weasley. They had been sent by the Ministry to A) try and gather information about the chaos that had ensued last night at the Dancing Hippogriff and B) keep Laura safe from more potential attackers and the members of the press, who were trying desperately to get a peek at the wounded rocker for publicity.

"These people are nutters," Ron Weasley muttered, reading the reports gathered from the witnesses. "Running around yelling nonsense about people being 'mudbloods' and shooting off curses all willy-nilly? Didn't we get rid of all the Death Eaters?"

"Doesn't mean we got rid of everyone who thinks like the Death Eaters," Harry replied, looking over his copy of the documents.

"Well, still, why would these Death Eater wannabes target Laura?" Ron posed. "What would they want to get out of her?"

"I don't know anything specifically," Harry said. "But, I mean, if they hate Muggleborns, I guess it makes sense to go after Laura….she's been one of the biggest public advocates for Muggleborns, y'know, she's always talking about Muggleborn equality and bettering Muggle-wizard relations….if they were going to make a statement against those things, the person to kill would be Laura Marlow-O'Malley, wouldn't it?"

"I suppose," Ron shrugged. "And doing it publicly like that would be quite the stunt."

"And, I was thinking," Harry began, running his hands through his ever-messy black hair. "Isn't this a lot like that mass Muggle killing last month, at that huge concert in Leeds? We know that had magical origins, even if we haven't found a culprit or motive yet….awfully similar though, a mass killing of Muggles at a concert, the attempted murder of a Muggle advocate at a concert….we'll have to look into that one again."

"Why didn't I think of that!" Ron mused, slightly exasperated.

"Because I'm the brains, and you're the brawn here," Harry joked, gesturing to the impressive build Ron had acquired since becoming an Auror.

"Just because I'm incredibly buff and attractive now doesn't mean I don't have brains," Ron retorted playfully.

"Excuse me, gentlemen," said the steel gray haired healer who had been in charge of Laura's case. Seeing the look they gave her, she said, "Oh, the password is 'Fang,' just let me in, won't you?"

The two young Aurors nodded, stepping aside to allow the moderately annoyed woman into Laura's room. They discussed the case for a few more minutes, before the woman poked her head out once again.

"She's awake," the healer informed them. "You can come in and ask her questions now, but don't be too surprised if she isn't terribly full of answers."

"Thank you," Harry said.

The healer nodded, stepping out of the room. Harry began to step inside, but Ron did not.

"Will you get in here?" Harry muttered, a little exasperated.

"No, you go in," Ron responded hastily. "She doesn't like me!"

Harry rolled his eyes. "Grow up, Ron! This isn't about who likes who, this is about doing our job!"

"She never liked me back in school," Ron continued. "She thought I was a stupid little git….and she broke things off with Fred, well, that gives her more reason to hate me, doesn't it?"

"Grow up!" Harry repeated harshly. "That was four years ago, Ron, we're not in kids in school anymore."

"Alright, alright," Ron mumbled, appeasing his friend. "I'll go in - but if she gives me any kind of look, Harry-"

"Come off it, Ron."

"Fine, fine."

Finally inside of the hospital room, Harry and Ron saw just how bad off Laura really was. She was pale, with heavy dark circles under her eyes, her lips dry and cracked, and her whole appearance was that of someone who was inches away from dying. They'd propped her up against a mound of fluffy pillows, her dark hair dirty, spread like dark angel wings against the stark white of the pillow covers. The only dash of color on her came in her eyes, which were as hazel and intriguing as ever.

Andrew Fawley, who had been holding a cup of water to Laura's mouth for her to drink, stood immediately upon Harry and Ron's arrival to the room.

"If you two ask her anything to upset her, I swear to Merlin that I'll-" the blood-stained rocker burst.

"Calm down, mate," Xavier Crowley interrupted, holding Andy back from attacking the two Aurors. Ron had his wand drawn, just for precaution. "They're here to help!"

Harry, who had not drawn his wand, spoke in a calm and even tone, saying, "We don't want to upset her, and if we do, we'll leave. We just want to try and figure out who did this to her and how we can find them and give them what they deserve, alright?"

Andy said nothing. He let out a long, hard breath, and sat, chewing his lip as he did so. He still said nothing, but he gave them a nod, which was his way of giving them his permission to proceed. Harry summoned over a chair, one for himself and one for Ron, who set up a self-writing quill to record the interview. Ron took the chair further away from Laura, and Harry took the one closer to her. Ron was sitting back, allowing Harry to take the lead, as he seemed almost scared of the frail woman in the hospital bed.

"Don't look so scared of me, Ron," Laura teased, seeing the look upon his face. Her voice was raspy, barely there. She laughed a dry, crackling laugh that seemed almost macabre given her dead-looking state. "I clearly can't do anything to you like this, even though I wouldn't anyway."

Ron didn't reply, but his cheeks flushed at her comment.

Harry cleared his throat, deciding to start the official interview with her, by first asking, "So, Laura, could you tell us what happened last night?"

"Yeah, some motherfucker tried to kill me by stabbing my guts out," she replied dryly. Seeing the looks upon the two young men's faces, she rolled her eyes and said, "Fine, I suppose you want more information than that."

"Please," nodded Harry.

"Well," she said, clearing her own throat. "Before the show, I just had a bad feeling, like something bad was going to happen, which isn't out of the ordinary when I'm drunk like I was….but anyway, this was an awful feeling, like I just knew something disastrous was about to happen. But I went out anyway and everything seemed alright, the crowd was throwing off good energy and everyone seemed excited and happy to be there and all, and then we started playing our first song and all hell broke loose. Everyone was screaming - not in a good way, mind you - so I chucked my bass off of me and curses were flying and I got sight of these people, maybe thirteen of them or so, in red robes with masks on, masks that looked like Death Eater masks….they were cursing people and I saw Andy and Xavier down dueling them, and then one started throwing curses at me, calling me a Mudblood bitch….I got him down to the floor, but then this guy came up from behind me, holding the knife to my throat, telling me to drop my wand…."

Laura paused at this point in her story, tracing the faint scar that remained on the front of her throat from the pressure of the knife being there the previous night.

"But I didn't, and I managed to get away from him, and he knocked me to the ground and started stabbing me, and I thought I was dead, but now I'm here," Laura finished, rather anticlimactically.

"Did you know who any of them were?" Harry asked. She shook her head, so he asked, "Did you get a good look at any of them?"

"Well, the one stabbing me, sure," she shrugged. "Not his face, or anything, but there was this kind of crest or logo on the chest of his robes….a gold snake with red eyes and the letters C.O.V….I could see his eyes through the mask, they were dark eyes, like there wasn't even a man behind them…."  
Her words drifted off along with her gaze, as tears clouded her eyes. Andy grabbed her hand again, squeezing it in silent support as he pensively (and angrily) stared at her legs through the hospital blankets. Xavier ran his hands through his hair, and Carter looked half-dead himself in his seat.

Breaking the silence, Harry inquired, "Well, is there anything else any of you can tell us?"

"No," they all said in unison, shaking their heads.

"Laura said it all," Xavier informed them. "It was just crazy; there didn't seem to be any rhyme or reason to it, it was all so sudden and so random."

"It was like the war all over again," Laura said in a mousy voice, her eyes distant and still tear-fogged. "It was like being there again…."

She collapsed into a pile of tears, sobbing, the kind of sobs that robbed you of your breaths and made your head hurt. Andy gathered her up in his arms for comfort, with a painfully stoic expression on his face, letting her cry into the shirt stained with her blood.

"I think that maybe you two should go now," Xavier said lowly, while reaching over to rub Laura's back.

"Thank you," Harry said, as he and Ron rose with no objections. "We'll be in contact."

The two young Aurors left, and Laura Marlow-O'Malley cried her heart out in her hospital room.


	3. Three - Bad Idea

**Hello everyone! Sorry for not updating for a couple of days, I've been stuck in bed with a stomach bug. But, I'm back, and I'd like to issue a huge thanks to everyone who's taken the time to read and fave and follow, it really does mean a lot to me. I hope you guys are enjoying this fanfiction, cause I'm having fun writing it. It's a lot like the original stuff I write, much more so than my usual fics here. Anyway, please don't be afraid to leave a review, because I'd be super interested in seeing what you guys are thinking about this fic, if you like it, your thoughts, etc. It would mean a lot. Really.**

 **That's it from me for now. I hope you enjoy chapter three!**

* * *

The _Daily Prophet_ and every other newspaper relevant to wizards couldn't seem to get enough of the story of Laura's attempted assassination. The front page read:

 ** _REBEL ROCKER LAURA MARLOW-O'MALLEY DANGEROUSLY CLOSE TO DEATH AFTER ASSASSINATION ATTEMPT_**

 ** _WILL THE OUTSPOKEN BASSIST BE ABLE TO MAKE IT?_**

 _By Rita Skeeter_

 _June 20 - Diagon Alley was bursting with excitement and energy as fans poured into the Dancing Hippogriff Nightclub (a popular but shady venue) to see famed rock band Wormwood's rumored final show. The band has hinted at calling it quits for years now, ever since sex-addicted guitarist Xavier Crowley murdered three prostitutes in Bulgaria. No charges were pressed, but are charges ever pressed against rock stars? Anyhow, this was the point at which Wormwood began to fall apart. It is said that Laura Marlow-O'Malley was the driving force that kept the band together during their fall from grace. Inside sources have informed me that bandmates Crowley, singer Andrew Fawley and drummer Carter Morris have wanted to end the band, but Marlow-O'Malley didn't allow it to happen. Did these three raucous rockers try to kill their bassist for trying to keep them on the straight and narrow with the band?_

 _"It looked like Andy and Xavier were talking to those robed guys right before Laura was attacked," says an inside source who wished to remain anonymous for fear of being attacked by the gang of a group. "Like they told the guy when to go kill her. And Carter wasn't doing anything - just sitting behind his drums like he was frozen there, or something."_

 _Is it possible that Crowley, Fawley and Morris were all in cahoots with hired killers to get rid of Marlow-O'Malley? They might not have managed to kill her right off, but she is still in St. Mungo's with life-threatening injuries. The healers at St. Mungo's have not allowed press to visit her, though the have been slipping Aurors in and out of the ward of the hospital she's supposedly staying in_.

Fred Weasley stared at the front page of the Prophet as if he were in a daze. He couldn't stop looking at the picture of Laura, which was said to have been taken before she was attacked. She was onstage, in a bath of reddish-orange light, in a black minidress, a heavy leather jacket, ripped stockings, combat boots and black lipstick, her dark curls a mess and falling down her back. There was a slight look of nervousness in her face, one Fred hadn't seen in years.

"I don't know why you're torturing yourself with that," George said with a shake of the head, joining his brother at their little dining table in the flat they shared over Weasley's Wizard Wheezes.

At the sound of George's words, Fred chucked the paper on the ground in an angered haze. He was mad at the people who did that to her, he was mad at Laura, and he was mad at himself.

"I should go see her," Fred said suddenly, his head snapping up.

George looked at his twin as if he'd lost all his marbles. Through his eggs, he shook his head, saying, "I don't know about that."

"Why?" Fred asked manically.

"Well, first of all, you have no clue where she lives, if she's gone home already," George stated obviously. "Also, you haven't spoken in three years, really. You two didn't end on good terms. You didn't end on good terms with anyone close to her. Plus, I doubt they're just going to let any bloke who wanders in off the street get into see her at St. Mungo's."

Fred knew George was right in saying all of that. But, at the moment, emotion was overpowering logic.

"That doesn't mean I don't try, George," Fred retorted. "What if she had died and I never saw her again before she did?"

"What if?" George repeated.

"Ron's an Auror, I bet he'll know how I can get in touch with her," Fred continued, ignoring George. "I'll go ask Ron."

"I don't think that's the best idea," George warned.

"Why not?" Fred asked, hurrying to pull his shoes on.

"Because, Fred, open your eyes!" George nearly hollered. "Nothing between you and Laura ended well, and I don't know if bursting in to see her unannounced for the first time in three years right after she was almost murdered is the best idea! Besides, I don't think you're going to get the warm welcome back that you think you're going to get from her."

"I don't expect to get anything from her," Fred said, looking George straight in the eye.

"Don't lie to yourself," George scoffed. "You expect to make some sort of peace with the whole situation with her. You expect her to tell you that everything that happened is okay and that she still loves you, when that's almost completely the opposite of what would happen if you went to talk to her. Both of you are hotheaded, and if you two saw each other now, I don't think anything good could come of it."

"Well, I'm going," George stated defiantly. "And that's that."

George didn't have a chance to say another word. Fred had already Apparated out of their flat with a pop.

* * *

"I don't understand why we just can't make breakfast magically," whined Ron.

He was having a hard time cracking eggs and subsequently beating them the Muggle way. It was a rule of Hermione's that, on the weekends when they both had time, they make breakfast like Muggles, no magic. She insisted that it was good for them to do at least one thing without magic and that it was good for 'relationship building,' but Ron only found the whole process annoying and frustrating.

"Because we don't need magic for every little thing, Ron," Hermione replied shortly, flipping French toast on the stove.

"You sound like my mum," Ron said lowly.

"Have you still not figured out how to get the eggs beat?" Hermione said, looking at her fiancé over her shoulder. Seeing that he didn't really have a clue what he was doing, she added, "Just whip them. No, faster than that….Merlin, here, let me do it."

"It would be a lot easier if you just let me use magic….," Ron mumbled, happily letting Hermione take over.

"Plenty of Muggles do this all the time, Ron, it's not going to kill you to make breakfast without magic once a week," Hermione muttered in response. "You're really -"

She was cut off by a knocking at the door of their flat. Hermione gave Ron a look which he understood - if she had to do the eggs, he was going to have to get the door.

" _Fine_ ," Ron grumbled with playful and exaggerated exasperation.

He went over to the door, peered through the peephole, and then let out an actually exasperated-looking Fred.

"What's wrong with you?" Ron asked, watching as his older brother stormed into his house.

"I wanted to ask you where Laura is," Fred answered quickly. "I have to go see her."

Both Ron and Hermione froze, staring at him like he'd sprouted another head.

" _Laura_ Laura?" Ron asked. "Like, Laura Marlow-O'Malley Laura?"

"Yes, who else, you bloody idiot?" Fred snapped. "You've looked into her case, haven't you?"

"Well, yes," Ron answered slowly. "Harry and I just interviewed her at St. Mungo's the other day, but -"

"So, she's still there, then?" Fred pressed.

"No," Ron replied. "But it doesn't matter anyway, because I can't tell you anything."

"Why?"

"Because, first of all, that'd be breaking Auror codes," Ron answered obviously. "And second of all, I don't think going to see Laura now, out of all times, is the best idea."

"You sound just like George," Fred almost spat. " _That's not a good idea, don't do that!_ "

"I don't think it's a good idea either, Fred," an anxious Hermione chimed in. "She's obviously not in a good state of health, and probably not a good state of mind either, and if you just show up to see her randomly…."

"I didn't ask either of you for your input," Fred cut her off. "I just wanted to know where to find her, that's it, and I -"

He paused, looking towards Hermione, and drastically changed the subject by asking, "Is something burning?"

With realization, Hermione faltered, saying, "Oh, the French toast…."

She turned to tend to the burning food on the stove. Ron couldn't help to chuckle.

"Oh, it's so _easy_ to cook like Muggles, isn't it, Hermione?"

* * *

Across London, in a tiny flat above a vacant restaurant, Laura laid in the bed she'd owned since childhood. This was Laura's childhood home after all, and below was the restaurant her mum used to run. Across the street was the house Andy grew up it. Now her home all empty and lonely, for Laura was often away from home and didn't have time to keep everything clean and nice and pretty like her mum once had.

She'd been released from St. Mungo's the previous evening, and though she was pretty much healed medically, she wasn't yet back to being herself. That was understandable, as most people usually need a while to recover after they're nearly murdered, so she'd been hanging out in her childhood bedroom, wrapped up in a myriad of blankets watching Muggle children's television while Andy waited on her. He was arguably more shaken up than she was, feeling that he couldn't leave her alone for more than a minute or so or else she'd be in danger again, even though there were Aurors stationed by the house as a precaution.

"Here's your omelette," Andy said, as he brought her breakfast in bed. One of his hidden talents was cooking.

"Thanks," Laura said gratefully, accepting the plate. "You're really the best."

"Oh, you flatter me," Andy replied playfully, crawling into bed beside her.

Briefly, Laura imagined how all the girls who thought he was so sexy would react to seeing him in Ballycastle Bats pajama pants and a t-shirt advertising his own band. He looked like a bit of a goofball in the ensemble, at least to Laura he did, but she was grateful to have him beside her right now. It was just comforting having Andy beside her, something that brought her back to being a kid and sharing a bed with him during all the countless sleepovers they had, at his house or at hers.

" _Bodger and Badger_ , really, Laura?" Andy teased, seeing what she was watching.

"Shut up, it makes me feel like a happy kid again," she said, giving him a slight shove in the shoulder.

"Just observing," Andy replied with a shrug and a smirk.

He glanced over to Laura's nightstand, which was on her side of the bed. He noticed something on it that he figured she would've thrown out or burned years ago, a wizard photo with two figures laughing in a Gryffindor-red frame. He reached over Laura to grab it, pulling it in for closer inspection.

In it, was a teenage Laura, looking exactly how she looked during their seventh year at Hogwarts. She'd dyed her hair a Slytherin shade of green just to get everyone in her house of Gryffindor a little pissed off. Her cheeks were chubbier than they were now, with remnants of baby fat clinging to her bones. Next to her was notorious prankster Fred Weasley, whose arm was draped around her shoulder. The two were laughing, like they didn't have a single care in the world, before quickly kissing for the camera. They looked unbelievably happy, in the prime of their youth, and they were undeniably in love.

"You still have this?" Andy inquired, raising an eyebrow in disbelief.

"Yes, I do," she said defensively, grabbing it away from him in a flash. "Do you have a problem with that?"

"No," Andy replied honestly. "I'm just surprised that you didn't burn it or throw it off a bridge or something."

"I wouldn't do that," she said quietly.

Andy watched as Laura carefully set the photo back on her nightstand. Her eyes lingered on the photo, and Andy could've sworn he saw tears come to her hazel eyes.

"Are you alright?" he asked quietly.

"Yes I am, you fucking rotter," she replied.

They both laughed at the vulgar language, and Laura dropped her head onto Andy's shoulder as she finished her breakfast and watched the telly in silence.


	4. Four - Painful Memories

**Hey again! As usual, I'd like to start out by thanking everyone who's taken the time to follow, fave and review, it does mean a lot and keep up my desire to keep writing. Also, I really, honestly do love hearing from you guys, and I'd really like to hear how you like this fic, so don't be afraid to leave a review.**

 **I'll stop begging now and let you read. Thanks again!**

* * *

Laura stepped out of the shower. Showering and coming out clean and smelling good was something that always comforted her. However, when she caught a glance at herself in the floor-length mirror attached to the door, that good feeling quickly vanished.

She was covered in scars, particularly over her stomach. There were plenty of old ones that were faded, still visible, but faded by now, and then there were the new ones. The scars from her attacker's cursed knife were particularly dark, not terribly large, but there were nine of them and they were all dark and glossy and the kind of scars that could be seen from a mile away. Her skin was naturally pale, which didn't help the visibility matter.

Laura let out a long sigh, running her hands lightly over the scarred skin. It was all ugly. It was a stretch of bad memories permanently etched into her skin. They were all curse scars, too. The old ones were curse scars, the new ones were curse scars, and curse scars never went away. She hated them. She hated how they looked, she hated the way looking down at them or feeling them or the way clothing rubbed against them that reminded her that they were there, that reminded her of the traumatic experiences that caused them.

 _"Please don't," Laura begged, falling to the ground against the wall. Her hands fell to her stomach protectively, and she could no longer control the tears running down her face. "Please…."_

 _"Oh, is the little Mudblood brat scared now?" Bellatrix Lestrange cooed menacingly. "Not so tough and loudmouthed without a guitar, are you?"_

 _"Please," Laura mumbled. It was the only word she could say._

 _Bellatrix released the most terrifying laugh that Laura had ever heard in her life. She pulled her wand back, before thrusting it forward, casting a blindingly bright gray curse. There was nothing Laura could do. The curse made contact with her body, somewhere between the chest and the stomach, and she screamed a bloodcurdling scream, not knowing how else to react to the pain._

 _And Bellatrix Lestrange laughed, as Laura writhed in pain, wishing she could die and be put out of her misery._

Laura fell to the ground with the memory, feeling sick with the recollection. There was a bit of a crashing noise that came along with her doing so, and immediately heard Andy pounding on the door from the other side to see if she was alright.

"Laura, what was that noise?" Andy asked nervously. "Are you okay? Do you need me to come in there?"

"I'm fine, Andy," she replied in a surprisingly even tone.

"Really?"

"Honestly."

"...Okay," Andy responded.

Laura heard him stalk away slowly and hesitantly, and grabbed the wall to help herself get up. Feeling too physically and mentally exhausted to do anything else the Muggle way, she picked up her wand and magically got herself dressed in a pair of comfortable, tattered jeans and her old Sex Pistols tee that had quite the collection of holes on it. She tied her hair back lazily, and exited the bathroom, collapsing into the first chair in the kitchen/dining room.

She and Andy were still staying in her house, the flat she'd grew up in and lived in when she and the band weren't on tour. She hadn't changed the house, but opted to leave it just as her parents had it. The kitchen and dining area was the part that looked exactly the same as it did when Laura was younger, at least in her eyes.

The walls were a soft baby pink color, decorated with her mother's paintings and photographs, most of which were from the punk shows her parents frequented, or of Laura, in various stages in childhood. One of her favorite photos was of her and her dad, when he was still young and built like a beanpole, dressed in full punk attire, toting a little Laura on his shoulders, who was outfitted in a pink gingham dress and patent leather Mary Janes. It was kind of a funny picture, because most people wouldn't think that a guy that looked like her father in that picture would like children at all, let alone have a child of his, especially one dressed in all pink, and especially one who had him wrapped around her chubby little finger.

Andy entered the room, interrupting Laura's trip down memory lane. There was a new copy of the _Daily Prophet_ in his hands, which he thrust down onto the table in front of her, before going to get the tea kettle off the stove.

"Do I want to read this?" Laura inquired. "Or is it another Rita Skeeter article claiming you tried to murder me and Xavier murdered three prostitutes in Bulgaria?"

Andy chuckled, transferring the hot water to a pot, to which he added a bag of peppermint tea. "I think he murdered fourteen Bulgarian prostitutes, if I recall correctly."

Laura chuckled. "Seriously, Andy."

"No, there's nothing like that in there," he said, bringing her a hot cup of tea. "Nothing interesting at all, really, not judging by the front cover."

It was at that moment that Xavier Apparated into the kitchen with a loud cracking noise, startling Andy so much that he drew his wand and startling Laura so much that she nearly passed out.

"Oh, calm down, you dandies," Xavier brushed off, immediately starting to rifle through Laura's cabinets for some food. "It's just me."

"Well, it's just that most people have enough common courtesy to Apparate _outside_ , and wait to be let in, not just Apparate directly into someone's house," Laura retorted, taking another sip of tea.

Xavier shrugged the remark off, as he opened a bag of crisps, saying, "Why do that when I can just Apparate in? Besides, you've got like twenty Aurors outside of your place, and I really wasn't in the mood to be stupidly interrogated by them just to get in here."

"It's not _stupid_ ," Andy said. "It's for Laura's protection. What if one of those red-robed nutters pretended to be you and tried to get in here?"

Xavier rolled his eyes, before giving Andy quite the look. "I can assure you, Andrew Phillip Fawley, that I indeed am Xavier Randolph Crowley. I am the same person who tried to ask Laura on a date during our fifth year, only to have you punch me in the face and break my nose."

Andy and Laura chuckled at the memory.

"Thanks for that, by the way," Laura said.

"What, you didn't want to go on a date with me during fifth year?" Xavier asked.

"Hell no!" Laura replied loudly. "You've always been a bit of a pervert, Crowley."

"I'm not a _pervert_ ," Xavier defended himself playfully. "I think I was just too much of a bad boy for you to handle."

"Yes, because drinking firewhiskey and smoking Unicorn brand cigarettes behind the Hog's Head in Hogsmeade was _so_ bad boy of you," Laura chuckled.

"Hey, it was better than whatever the hell you were doing at Hogwarts," Xavier retorted.

"What's that supposed to me?" Laura laughed. "I spent a lot of time with you when we were at school, so are you insulting yourself?"

"You also hung out with those stupid Gryffindor gits," Xavier spat with disdain, though he didn't dare to make eye contact with her.

Laura said nothing. Andy, who recalled the way she looked at that old photograph yesterday, played mediator, saying, "Hey, that's enough."

Xavier and Andy made eye contact, and Xavier knew he meant business, so he shut up.

"Haven't you been bored here, cooped up at home for the past couple of weeks?" Xavier asked suddenly, drastically changing the subject.

Laura shrugged. "Yeah, kind of I suppose, but -"

"Then let's get you out of the house, O'Malley!" Xavier said, clasping his hands together after tossing the empty crisp bag towards the rubbish (which he missed). "Diagon Alley, I suggest….how about the Leaky Cauldron for drinks?"

"Sure," Laura said. "I could use a drink after everything that's happened."

"You're going to go drinking at 11:30 in the morning?" Andy asked scrutinizingly.

Laura rolled her eyes. "Hypocrite. You drink more alcohol than that stupid hippogriff of yours."

"Speaking of your hippogriff, the creature's been tearing up my flat since you left it with me," Xavier informed Andy.

"That's because you don't know how to take care of him," Andy grumbled. He stood, then saying, "Either way, if you two are going out drinking, I'm going with you. Moonbeam needs food anyway, and you two….well, I don't trust you two out by yourselves drinking, especially with recent events."

"Then let's get going," Xavier said hurriedly. "I'm thirsty, and daylight's running out."

* * *

The three out of the four members of Wormwood hit Diagon Alley, after mildly disguising themselves. It was something they were used to, having to transfigure their features if they ever wanted to go out in public without being attacked by fans or idiotic reporters such as Rita Skeeter. It was kind of a fun thing for them, putting on new faces and creating new identities.

For example, Xavier liked to make himself into a character he called "Roy." Roy was a big-muscled, skinhead kind of guy with a goatee and a hard stare. Roy was a long cry from Xavier, who was a ridiculously lanky guy with stringy, dark hair and a patchy beard he pretended was amazing. Laura thought he liked being Roy, that he liked looking so intimidating, since he usually looked like a guy who could very easily get his arse kicked by ten year olds.

Andy liked to go full on punk with his alter ego, usually giving himself a crazy-colored mohawk that was drastically different that his usual, meticulously styled long dark hair. He liked to get a little ugly, messing with his nose and teeth too. He liked being an ugly punk - something that was so opposite of his pretty boy, yet slightly gritty rock star image.

And that left Laura. She liked to turn herself into what she called a "little American Southern belle." She made her dark hair blonde and much less messy, made her hazel eyes into big brown doe eyes, and her not-conventionally-attractive features conventionally attractive. Being a naturally taller and slightly bigger girl, she also shrunk hers whole body down too, to a tiny little beach body that was so not like her usual one. Of course, there were parts of hers that just couldn't change, no matter how much transfiguration she did - her bloody curse scars.

Scars and all, Laura walked between Andy and Xavier in Diagon Alley. They'd successfully gotten Hippogriff food at the Magical Menagerie already, and were now on their way to the Leaky Cauldron for the drinks they so desired.

The pub was surprisingly empty compared to what they were expecting. It was almost completely empty, something they found bizarre, though they took their usual booth in the corner nonetheless.

"Three Chinese Fireballs, please," Xavier ordered, before the barmaid could even so much as greet them.

The stout woman raised an eyebrow, clearly not approving of the choice of hard drinks for lunch. Nonetheless, she waved her wand, and the drinks started to make themselves over at the bar, as she asked, "Anything else?"

"Not now, love," Xavier replied. The comment was much creepier coming from Roy than it was Xavier in his usual form. "But what's happened to your lunchtime rush?"

The drinks came zooming to the table, and the barmaid looked at them all as if they were nuts. "Haven't you lot heard about the C.O.V.?"

 _C.O.V._ , Laura thought, feeling her eyes begin to bulge. _The initials on the robes…._

"No," Xavier replied, clearly prodding. "What's the C.O.V.?"

"Well, no one really knows, do they?" the barmaid responded. "All we know is that's the name those nutters who tried to kill Laura Marlow-O'Malley are calling themselves. They left the letters burned into the middle of the road, down further in the alley….people have been staying away, scared, and I can't stay I blame them. I wouldn't be working if my rent wasn't due next week….well, I just hope they figure out who these lunatics are soon, eh? Wouldn't want another wizarding war on our hands, would we?"

Andy, Xavier and Laura all shook their heads. Laura felt a reverberating echo of pain radiate from her gut. She dropped her hands down there protectively as the barmaid stalked away, leaving Laura trying her hardest not to allow herself to relive the memories again.


	5. Five - The Gate Falls

**Hello again! Back with another chapter, and as usual, I don't have much else to say other than my thankfulness for all of y'all that take the time to read, fave, follow and review. I really do love hearing from you guys, so thanks so much to Beauty Eclipsed for their continued reviews! And, please don't be afraid to leave your own review, they really do make me happy and make me more motivated to write and a better writer.**

 **Now, I will shut up and let you read.**

* * *

Harry Potter and Ron Weasley were back on the job, finding themselves outside of Laura Marlow-O'Malley's London flat. They were back to try and gather more information on her case, especially with what had developed in the past couple of days.

The residents of Diagon Alley had woken up two days ago to find a large and strange symbol burned into the ground in the middle of the road. The symbol was a large circle with a snake wrapped around the letters C.O.V. Those who lived in Diagon Alley were rightfully worried and scared upon seeing the sight, as it understandably conjured up memories of the days when the Death Eaters left their mark. No one knew who or what the C.O.V. were, but they were concerned.

Of course, the Ministry and the Department of Magical Law Enforcement knew the connection between the symbol and the attacks at the Dancing Hippogriff a few nights ago. They hadn't released that information to the public yet, nor had they vocalized their belief that this C.O.V. group had connections to Muggle killings as well. The Ministry had decided to keep all of that information quiet, as they didn't want to spread panic yet, since they didn't have a full understanding of what was happening.

So, here were Harry Potter and Ron Weasley, about to talk to Laura Marlow-O'Malley once again. And once again, Ron did not want to go talk to her.

"I don't know why you can't talk to her by yourself," Ron muttered.

"Because we're _partners_ Ron," Harry replied, clearly a bit frustrated. "The whole point of having partners as Aurors is that we do things together -"

"That's if we're doing _dangerous_ things," Ron interrupted.

Harry shot him quite the look and knocked on the door. And Ron shut up.

Xavier Crowley opened the door, in the midst of brushing his teeth. With a slightly condescending edge to his voice, he greeted, "Oi, it's the Boy Who Lived and the sixth Weasley!"

"Hello," Harry greeted in return a bit awkwardly. Ron's face flushed. "Is Laura here?"

Xavier turned over his shoulder, and hollered, "LAURA!"

With that, he walked inside the flat, leaving the door open for the two young Aurors. Harry and Ron followed him inside; Harry awkwardly closing the door behind them. Neither Harry nor Ron knew what they were expecting the interior of the flat to look like, but they hadn't expected what they saw.

The walls of the sitting room were dressed in a pastel green and pink floral wallpaper, and littered with paintings and photos. Everything was very much like how the two young men imagined Neville Longbottom's grandmother's house to look like - the sofas were velvet, every surface had a doily, and everything was a little cluttered and a little outdated. Nonetheless, Harry and Ron sat on the nearest sofa (which was almost uncomfortably plush) and waited, while taking in their grandmotherly surroundings.

"Hi," Laura greeted, entering the room dressed in a baggy cotton nightdress. Sighing, she settled into the armchair opposite Harry and Ron, and asked, "Can I get you two anything?"

"No thank you," Harry replied, finding it odd that she wasn't dressed at noon.

"Then I suppose you want to ask me more questions?" she replied, picking at her half-painted fingernails.

"Yes," nodded Harry. "We just wanted to know if there were any more details you could tell us that could help us identify your attackers."

"Well, like I said, their robes had that C.O.V. and snake symbol," Laura said. "Which I guess is the same as the one found in Diagon Alley."

Harry looked at her a bit harder. "That's what we believe, yes."

Again, Laura sighed, running her hands through her bedhead to get it out of her face. "Why, though? Why are they doing this? I mean, I know you're here to talk to me, but isn't there anything you two know that you can tell me? I think I'm at least entitled to some information here."

"We think they're some sort of anti-Muggle group," Harry answered carefully. "We've linked them to a Muggle attack, as well as yours, and now the marking in Diagon Alley. If we're right about this, we think they targeted you because you're an outspoken public figure for Muggle-wizard relations and whatnot."

"Great," Laura grumbled, her eyes distant. "So this is Voldemort part two."

"We don't know that," Harry said quickly. "And even if they are doing things like the Death Eaters did, we have a better handle on it, and we'll be able to stop them faster. And it'll be even faster if you're able to give us any information that you may have forgotten the first time we spoke."

There was silence, as Laura mulled over her thoughts and recollected that night, as she had nearly a thousand times since it all happened. She tried to pull the images and sounds out of her brain, trying to see if any of the details she could think of held any clues within them.

"I don't know, Harry," Laura said, looking up with tears in her eyes. "Their voices….typical men's voices, I don't remember hearing any women….and I told you about the eyes of the man who…..y'know….dark eyes….."

"But you didn't get a glimpse of any of their faces?" Harry pressed. "There wasn't any moment where you got a glance at the face under the mask?"

"No," Laura shook her head. "The masks were solid, I couldn't see through them at all."

Harry bent forward, pulling a photo of the symbol left in Diagon Alley out of his briefcase. Passing it to Laura, he asked, "And this is the symbol you saw on their robes?"

Laura didn't even have to look at it for more than a second, before saying, "Yes, without a doubt."

Before another word of the conversation could be uttered, one of the Aurors stationed outside Laura's flat burst in, wide-eyed and panting a bit.

"What is it, Neville?" Harry asked, as he and Ron leapt to their feet.

Still panting, the Auror called Neville replied, "Diagon Alley….there was an attack outside of Diagon Alley….Kingsley wants you two there….."

"Sorry to make a fast exit, Laura," Harry apologized, gathering up his briefcase.

"I understand," Laura said. She stood, arms crossed, feeling her heart start to pound in her chest.

"We'll talk soon," Harry assured her.

Harry disappeared out the door, leaving only Laura and Ron. The two exchanged a strange sort of look, before Ron, who was preparing by drawing his wand let out a long sigh.

"I don't know if you care," Ron began, the first time he'd really talked to her in years. "But Fred's been really worried about you. I just thought you deserved to know."

And Ron left.

And Laura thought, _as if I needed more shit to worry about._

* * *

Harry and Ron arrived to the gates of Diagon Alley moments later, and realized all the chaos that had ensued. There were already a swarm of Obliviators modifying Muggles' memories and Aurors trying to make sense of what had happened. The actual gate to Diagon Alley was in pieces, looking like it had exploded from within. Pieces of the gate were scattered everywhere, and parts of the ground were still smoking.

"Harry, Ron, I'm glad you made it so quickly," said Kingsley Shacklebolt, former Auror and current Minister of Magic. Though no longer officially an Auror, Kingsley was still heavily involved with the Auror Office, and would never dream of not helping out with this kind of situation.

"Not a problem," Harry replied. Looking around, he asked, "What happened here?"

"Well, that's what we're trying to figure out," replied Kingsley. "Apparently, more members of the C.O.V. killed a passing group of Muggles while destroying the gate to Diagon Alley. We're not sure which was the priority, the vandalism or the killing, but we know it's the same group - the symbol's on the ground."

Upon looking at the smoking ground they stood on, Harry and Ron realized they were standing on a C.O.V crest that had been seared into the ground.

"Did you catch any of them?" Ron asked.

"No," Kingsley said, with a shake of the head. "Apparently there were six perpetrators, and a few witches and wizards heard the commotion and attempted to apprehend them, though they managed to Disapparate before we arrived. Two of the people who attempted to get them were your brothers, Ron, Fred and George."

Ron couldn't say he was surprised. However, he was concerned, and asked, "Are they alright?"

"Yeah, a little bruised and sore, but nothing major," Kingsley assured him. Nodding towards the disintegrated gate, he said, "They're over there, if you want to see them….Harry, could you come with me for a moment?"

Harry nodded, following Kingsley to interview a couple of Muggles before they were Obliviated, and Ron went off towards Fred and George, who were sitting atop some of the rubble. Ron noticed that Fred was holding a cloth to his forehead, which appeared to be bleeding, but other than that, both of the twins looked relatively unharmed.

"What were you two thinking?" was the first thing that came to Ron's mind as he came up to his brothers.

"That it'd be just a _blast_ to come fight some nutters in red robes," George replied, unable to resist a pun, no matter how bad it was.

Ron couldn't help but to smirk, though he pressed, "Really. What happened?"

"Well, there was this huge exploding noise, so Fred and I rushed out of the shop to see what the hell was going on," George began. "There were six of them, putting Muggles upside down in the air, like they did back at the World Cup….the gate was gone already. Naturally, we had to intervene, being the heroes we are, so we went after them with a couple of folks from the Leaky Cauldron. Fred lost his wand and got in a fist fight with one of them; that's how his head got busted open."

"You did?" Ron asked, raising an eyebrow and looking towards Fred.

"Of course," Fred said. "They're the fuckers who went after Laura. I would've killed them, too, if Kingsley and the others didn't show up."


End file.
